I’ve had a couple of little work-related wobbles this week which have made me feel anxious and which sharing the specifics of here would simply reinforce. So you’ll just have to trust me on this one, I seemed to be going through each day with the beat of the worry drum quietly accompanying everything I did.
Seth Godin asked today “When is it ok to start worrying?”. The answer of course is never. He reminds me:
“Worrying distracts you from the work at hand. You may have fooled yourself into thinking that it’s useful or unavoidable, but it’s not.”
One of my favourite ways to stop the banging of the worry drum is to remind myself how very much I have to be grateful for, just a few of which I want to share here.
It has rained relentlessly all weekend with a fierce growing wind that whistles down the chimney in the kitchen. I’m so grateful I was able to stay home and stay warm with X Factor and a large backlog of Celebrity Masterchef to enjoy. It was a shame we had to lose Sammi but the dream continues for the remainder.
I spent an enjoyable Skype hour on Saturday afternoon with Judith, chatting mostly about Nordic slippers, a subject that proves beyond reasonable doubt one has become a mad old woman. “Oh look” says Judith, “check out this link, they’re not pink but they’re nice all the same…”
And so they were. It was a Daily Mirror (UK) offer and I wasn’t sure if they would ship to Ireland so set about doing a similar google. Lo and behold, I found the Irish Times were doing an identical offer:
Identical, that is, apart from the price. From £12.99 in the UK (only £9.99 if you buy two pairs) to €36.90 if you buy the same slippers in Ireland. So I’m immensely grateful that I already own a very nice pair of sheepskin slipper-boots and will not be forking out three times what Judith will have to for the same thing.
I’m grateful for another bunch of elegant fresh roses this weekend to admire. I’ve found a proper vase at last and the roses are really quite magnificent on their long stems.
I’m grateful for the home-made cream of mushroom soup, the email exchanges with Dawn who is becoming ever more successful with her Ebay business, the long chat and laugh with my 86 year old pop today, the Hershey Kisses, Davidoff notebook and other small presents brought back from Qatar as a thank you for the teen-sitting I did this week.
I’m grateful for the prospect of work I truly love tomorrow when I wake and the day after and the day after that. I’m grateful that I have an understanding and oh so gentle female dentist to see on Tuesday, and the Temazepam that will knock me sideways for the day but will make me feel calm and easy while she pokes around in my mouth.
I’m grateful that I can start each working week with a one-hour call with Yvonne where we can talk about work, share what is going well and chew the cud on the challenges of the day.
I’m grateful to the Honourable – but mad – Violent Gibson for attempting to assassinate Mussolini on 7th April 1926, who by virtue of being born in Dublin, the daughter of Lord and Lady Ashbourne, has given J the Irish angle he needed for his Leaving Cert History project.
I’m grateful that though I might have stuff to worry about, I have so much more to be thankful for. I am blessed, I am blessed, I am blessed. And so it is.